Change

Leaving the apartment I have been renting for the past 9 years, the neighborhood which has been almost like a home to me for so long. The landlord raised the rent considerably, and coupled with my own inner feeling of a few months ago that it is time to make a change, I've decided to answer the call and do what I feel G-d wants me to do - change and move on. It is so hard to live on rent, to not own an apartment of my own. But for someone like me it is practically impossible to buy an apartment - I need to have 30% of the apartment total cost before I can take mortgage and I'm not even remotely close to this. I teach private lessons in Hebrew to supplement my salary, to be able to save as much as I can, but it would never be enough to save that initial sum. Anyway, I'm greatly thankful for what I have - for my health, for my work, for the classes I teach as well, for the food I eat, for my friends and acquaintances, for meriting to live in Jerusalem, even if alone, for meriting to witness the Redemption of Israel, and for everything I have within my mind and in my life, which is a lot.

I have so many mixed feelings - expectations for the future together with fears of loneliness in a different neighborhood, far away from my own. In a way, it's like going back home, because I'm moving to a neighborhood in which I used to live when I was a university student. But I hardly know anyone there, and I so need a home, not just a house or an apartment...

But what makes me feel good about this move is that I feel like HaShem is trying to "tell" me in every possible way that I should move, now, and to that specific area. Not sure why, but I trust Him. I also merited to do an act of kindness by deciding on this move - the previous tenant left it after four and a half years in the middle of his yearly contract, and couldn't find anyone to replace him. He was paying without living there. The fact that I go in to live there is a big help for him. Amazingly, it was the first apartment I looked at and liked it, and even when I looked at other apartments later for comparison, I couldn't find anything else at all. So despite the natural fears and mixed feeling, I place my trust in G-d and let Him lead me. We'll see what He plans. A friend of mine told me that He sends me there for a mission, and that I'll find out what that mission is when I'm there. I liked it. I definitely feel that my life here in Rechavia was like this - many, many good things started and came into the world thanks to me being here and meeting the beautiful people that I got to meet. I believe that if HaShem sends me to Giv'at HaMivtar/Ramat Eshkol, then He probably has a plan for me there. We'll see. I allow myself to cry to release some tension. The packing is emotionally taxing - coming in touch with all those memories, getting rid of things that were mine for years, deciding what to give away and what to leave for myself, etc. I wish I could travel light - just my clothes and some books, but there are other things that I cannot throw away. I've learned that the method of buying books no longer serves me. I have so many, and without a permanent apartment of my own, it's just not fun to have so many. I went back recently to borrowing books in a library. 

I miss home.

Hanukkah

I'm just back from a beautiful Hanukkah tour in Jerusalem, in the streets of the exquisite neighborhood of Nahla'ot. When Shabbat was over tonight, I made Havdalah (a ceremony over wine, fire and fragrant spices which we do to separate the holy Shabbat from the regular week days). I then lit my Hanukkiyah (Hanukkah menorah) at my window, lighting 7 candles plus one (the extra one is called Shamash - helper candle - and it can be used to light the other candles). I said the blessings and after enjoying the light of my menorah for a while, I left in the pouring rain to meet with the group near Nahla'ot. It was raining so hard, and I kept thanking G-d in my heart and thinking 'what a blessing!'. We need every drop of this rain, and if it means that I need to walk around and get wet all over, then so be it! The Mishnah (Torah commentary, the Oral Torah) says that HaShem does not listen to the prayers of people who walk on the streets when they ask that it shouldn't be raining, because everyone walks out from time to time, and if He listened to all of them, it would never rain. I kind of prayed that it would keep raining down on me, feeling that every drop of rain showers me with blessings.
Very few people were on the streets except for us, a group of about 30 people. We had a wonderful tour guide, someone from Sepharadi descent (she said she is a descendant of the Babylonian Jews). She spoke so eloquently, and I enjoyed hearing the gutteral sounds coming out of her throat (the ח and ע were softly, beautifully pronounced by her, and it made listening to her a delight for all of us). She knew so much - history, traditions, customs, places, people. It was wonderful to listen to her.
We saw many Hanukkiyah's with 7+1 candles. Most candles were actually glass cups filled with olive oil, and encased in a small glass case to shield them from the wind and rain. And as we were satiating our eyes with this heart-warming sight, we listened to her fascinated as she was telling us stories about the neighborhood and its people.
It so happened that just as we walked through R' Aryeh Levin Street (Aryeh Levin was a very pious, righteous Rabbi, who made a huge difference in so many people's lives. He passed away many years ago) - just as we were walking past the door of his house, a young family came out of the house and prepared to light their Hanukkiyah. Our guide asked for permission for us to watch as they did, and they agreed with a wide smile. It turns out that they are Rabbi Levin's family - his great-grandchildren. What an honor! The husband recited the blessings, and all of us, a big crowd, answered a resounding Amen to each of them. Then we sang in a group some beautiful Hanukkah songs that we all learned in kindergarten.
We continued walking, and as the rain started to pour down too strongly, our tour guide suggested that we'll find shelter at a nearby Japanese culture center. I've never known about this place. I was surprised to hear there was even one. We followed her into a high-ceiling stone house, and a young lady welcomed us in. It had nothing to do with Hanukkah, but it was beautiful to hear her speak about the miracles that G-d does for her in her life, and how He directed her/helped her find her way to Jerusalem. She said she started out in the south somewhere, and when it was time for her to go back to Japan, she realized that without living in Jerusalem, she wouldn't be able to tell people back home about Israel at all. So she found this place (this place found her, as she puts it), and decided to invest all the money she made the previous year in the south renting this place. She made for herself there a nice coffee-shop, and she runs different workshops, etc. I didn't introduce myself or anything. I don't think I'll frequent the place, but it was a nice break from the tour, and a nice surprise.
Then we went to the local culture center to listen to a most fascinating lecture by a young Israeli lady about the Hasmonean Dynasty. She told us things from the Talmud and the historian Yosephus Flavius that I've never heard before. She kept referring to what we were told about Hanukkah as children in kindergarten, and how much more complex reality was. I admit that my Hanukkah education was just a bit more than what my kindergarten teacher told me when I was 5. I did read and I did learn some more history independently, but not at such depth. All in all, despite the rain, it was a welcome break from the normal routine - I enjoyed every moment of this educational tour. I hope to be able to tour Nahla'ot even more from now on.
As I was going there and back, I did what I often do - I have this habit of trying to make the most of every moment, even when I walk. So I use my phone to listen to lectures, Torah classes, etc. I listened to some lectures (yes, in the pouring rain, hiding the phone in my coat's sleeve and bringing the sleeve close to my ear). It was another Hanukkah miracle that even though the phone got wet, nothing happened to it, and I got to enjoy Torah learning on the way there and back.
And one last thing, some funny thought I heard from someone about smartphones and Hanukkah: the Hanukkah miracle we celebrate mostly is the fact that one little jar of pure olive oil that was found in the defiled Temple, a jar that was supposed to last for one day (which is not enough because they needed at least 8 days to purify the Temple, if I remember correctly what my kindergarten teacher taught me...) - that little jar lasted for 8 whole days, enough time to purify the Temple and rededicate it. This is why we celebrate Hanukkah for 8 days, and in the 8th day we light 8 candles. Someone said, to help us realize the greatness of this miracle - 'just imagine that your smartphone battery is so low that it has only one bar, but your phone lasts with this battery for full 8 days...'. Nothing like modern day technological concepts to bring the message home :-)

Here is a beloved Hanukkah song from my childhood:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iE_N9axQIRk

And the same song, with some videos of people in Jerusalem:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Knh_ew2jAhc

This song can be sung in canon, in two voices, but I couldn't find a video that has this.

Anyway, Hanukkah Sameach to whoever reads this - tomorrow is the last day...

Shavua tov and Chodesh tov!
R.